


Of Dreams & Dragons (or How Merlin Learned To Stop Worrying And Love This Whole Destiny Thing)

by radio_silent



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Humor, M/M, Magic Revealed, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-07-05
Updated: 2010-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radio_silent/pseuds/radio_silent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin are hunting a Questing  Beast. Now if only the Dragon  would leave Merlin alone... Probably-abandoned WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is it possible to dedicate a fic to an entire fandom? I _adore_ reading Merlin fic, and that's what inspired me to go on and write some. This has been beta-ed by ozfroggirl (on LiveJournal).
> 
> This fic was written (and is set) in between s2 and s3.

The dreams started two weeks after the Great Dragon flew away from Camelot.

Merlin rather hated the dreams.

The first time he heard the Dragon, an aged voice echoing through his head, he felt tiny and meaningless. And yet the voice spoke like his name meant something, or at least something more than "Merlin, my boots need polishing," or "Merlin, you idiot, where did you leave my chain mail _this_ time?"

The voice spoke like destiny.

"Stupid destiny," Merlin muttered, kicking a rock by his feet. It scuttled forward obediently, careening off the steep ledge.

"Young warlock, I think you'll find destiny to be a blessing," said the Dragon.

"Destiny makes me lie to my closest friend in the world!" Merlin shouted. Only, no, something wasn't right about that, did he just say Arthur was his closest...yes, yes he must have—the Dragon was smirking again.

"Er, not my _best_ friend. Um. No. And certainly not in the whole world, the whole world is a very wide place and where there are better, better and non-prattish people. My best friend is Gwen!" Merlin said.

The Dragon titled his head at Merlin like he was curious, and Merlin wondered if any of that was the least bit convincing.

"It does not matter what you call him, young warlock, you will learn that in due time. Labels are no matter in Destiny; you and Arthur are and will forever be linked as one. Like a coin—"

"Yeah, thanks, I've heard that one already. Why do I even talk to you?"

Merlin rather missed his normal dreams, particularly the recurring one about the midday picnic with Arth...Gwen! His best friend. In the world.

"...and now it is time," the Dragon said, "to reveal yourself to Arthur."

"WHAT?" Merlin asked. The flame in the torch he was holding shot up a few feet.

"Now you must show the prince your deepest truth," the Dragon said. "It is time; A Dark Force is coming that cannot be faced divided."

"I'll be beheaded!" Merlin cried. "You of all people know what Camelot is like!"

"A _very_ dark Force, Merlin. Now, let your prince surprise you-" and suddenly the Dragon smiled, "—or die."

The flames shot downwards this time, and the Dragon grinned on quite merrily as Merlin's sleeve, and then his arm, caught fire.

Merlin awoke screaming.  


 

 

Merlin wondered how to broach the subject. He smiled manically to himself as he made Arthur's bed and imagined that announcement.

"Arthur, guess what?" He attempted. "I'm just a bit magic. You know, in case there's ever a resident evil sorcerer around out to get you. Which happens rather often, actually..."

And then he contemplated his body strapped to a pyre and Uther holding the first piece of burning wood.

But he had to tell Arthur, he had no other option. "Dark forces" certainly sounded ominous...Merlin's brain flickered to the pyre image again, and he felt the flames of the downwards torch in his dream from the night before. He remembered the heat, white and searing...

Which was, naturally, the moment Arthur walked in the room.

"Merlin?" he said as he opened the door, "Merlin, do you smell something burnin-"

"MERLIN!" he cried, and threw the pitcher of water left over from breakfast at his servant's burning arm.

"Merlin YOU IDIOT, did you just set yourself on FIRE? It's July, Merlin. I don't _need_ a fire...There isn't even a fire in the _fireplace_..."

Merlin watched, arm wet and mouth shut, as Arthur's expression morphed into the same one he had worn when "Will" destroyed Mercia's men at Ealdor. An expression that always seemed a bit too much like he knew exactly what was going on.  
"Merlin, tell me I didn't just see what I think I just saw."

Merlin waited, frozen. Since he wasn't supposed to be making excuses anymore...

"Merlin! Tell me you didn't just do ma... that you...you didn't just..."

Merlin waited until he realized Arthur wouldn't stop sputtering on his own. He coughed a bit, awkwardly, and rubbed his wet arm against his side.

"Arthur, I set my arm on fire. Hah, er, well... I don't think you should see me as a threat to the kingdom."

Arthur barked out a laugh, though he didn't seem at all amused. "No, Merlin, you're just a threat to yourself. What were you thinking, setting your arm on fire? My father would burn you at the stake for practicing ma...so you decided to save him the trouble?"

"Sire..." Merlin tried.

Arthur walked over to Merlin, and gripped his shoulders. Hard. It kind of hurt.

Not as much as a burning arm, but still.

"Merlin, if my father, or anyone else in the entire castle besides, apparently, me, had caught you just now, you would be a dead man. You can't practice ma...that thing, you CAN'T practice it, not only because you're an utter idiot and you set yourself ON FIRE WITH IT..."

Arthur trailed off, breathing hard and staring at Merlin.

Merlin couldn't help staring back.

Arthur's hand still warm on his shoulder, Merlin took a step towards the prince.

"Because what?" he said quietly.

"Nothing," Arthur huffed. He let his hands drop from Merlin's shoulders, and spun around to fall back onto his newly-made bed.

"Although as suicide plans go," Arthur mused, "it is fairly involved."

"...Sire?"

"Merlin, do stop saying that word so often...it's unsettling."

Merlin couldn't help wondering if Arthur had suffered a brain injury out on the field today—the prince was acting all out of sorts.

"Not that I'm upset you don't plan to torture me, si—Arthur," Merlin said, "but if you're going to kill me, even eventually, I think I deserve the right to know."

"Of course I'm not going to kill you. Since you're clearly bollocks at you-know-what I'm assuming you _won't_ try this again. So I won't have to sentence you to death!" Arthur shut his eyes. "Percival couldn't seem to keep his sword in his hands today—he was nearly your rival in incompetence on the field. And there have been rumors of another Questing Beast; Father wants me to go search for it in the forest, as soon as possible. In short, I just want to relax and forget this" he gestured to Merlin and the empty fireplace, "ever happened. It's your lucky day, Merlin. I'm not going to sentence you to death; I don't even want to leave my bed. Now, help me out of my armor."

Merlin recited a word of some sort, and immediately Arthur felt lighter and more comfortable. It was almost as if—

He opened his eyes. Merlin was standing innocently, hands held behind his back and his eyes trained on the prince.  
"Yes, sire?"

Arthur looked at the pile of armor gleaming like new and arrayed neatly on his wooden table. He sighed.

"This is going to be a bit of a problem, isn't it?"  


 

"Well," Merlin said as he magically stoked their campfire (and Arthur pretended has was _not_ watching with intense fascination), "I helped you slay the Questing Beast. Er, the first one."

"Oh...Merlin, this new one might not even be real. It's probably just a rumor."

Merlin thought back to his conversation with the Dragon, about the Dark Force. "Are you sure? And anyway, Arthur, you seem to be missing the part where I saved your life!"

Arthur nodded graciously. "And I saved your life by bringing you mortaeus flower."

"Remember Sofia? She nearly drowned you. How did you think you survived?"

"Perhaps you're forgetting that I drank our poison in the Labryinth of Gedref!"

"And you've forgotten entirely that you're the reason I was there in the first place!"

Arthur stared at Merlin, who stared straight back.

"Well," Arthur finally said, "I slew the Great Dragon."

Merlin tried not to wince at the pride saturating Arthur's declaration. "Erm…"

"What?"

"Well...I sort-of talk to Dragons. In their own language, I mean. They have to obey. And you were knocked out, so...I told him to go away," Merlin finished sheepishly.

"So you're saying you saved me from the Great Dragon, not the other way around," Arthur said. "...and you did so merely by telling him to leave?" He poked the fast-blazing campfire with a spare stick and tried not to shove the burning branch in Merlin's face.

A prince could only have so much patience with an unfaithful servant, after all.

"It's a bit more complicated—"

"I can't believe you told me I defeated the Dragon!"

"I can't believe you bought it!"

"What was I supposed to think? I wake up, the Dragon is gone, my knights are wounded on the ground, and all I'm left with is my measly little servant who can barely hold a sword!"

"I can hold a sword."

"Merlin. You really can't. In fact," Arthur began to smile, "No matter how mag...how..."

"You're nearly getting there, sire!" Merlin teased.

"Shut up. No matter how, how _that_ you might be, I am still far beyond your equal in battle."

"I'm not sure, Arthur. I beat a dragon. I beat the _Great_ Dragon."

Arthur stared back at his manservant's impish grin, at his high cheekbones highlighted by the flickering fire that had roasted their meal. He thought about how alone they were in the backwoods of Camelot, and how the woods in midsummer always seemed to bring out a bit of foolishness, even from the crown prince.

"Alright," he whispered to Merlin, "try me."

"Arthur?" Merlin's eyes crinkled, not quite with confusion but with something else, something Arthur couldn't decipher.

"In battle, Merlin, try me!"

Merlin mock-frowned. "But I don't want to hurt you, sire."

"Remember the first time we met?"

"I don't think I could forget."

"I knew there was something about you, Merlin...I said I knew there was something about you…"

"I _was_ there you know," Merlin pouted.

"And that's what it was! You," Arthur whirled an accusing finger at Merlin, "you were holding back on me!"

"Aren't we supposed to be tracking the Questing Beast?" Merlin asked.

"Oh, stop stalling! Come on, Merlin. Take me _on_ already!"

Merlin shrugged, and he couldn't help grinning. "You insisted, sire..."  


 

When they returned to Camelot the next day, covered in bruises and briar-scratches, Arthur explained to Uther there was no way the pair would let the Questing Beast get away from them when they went out again.

"We were really just locating its…preliminary position this time, father," he explained.

Uther frowned. "Yes, well...bring the other knights with you when you go out again. Tomorrow, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, sobered.  



	2. Chapter 2

Merlin still missed the picnic dream, but when he again found himself in the hall of the Great Dragon that night, he couldn't help cracking a smile.

"Are things to your satisfaction, young warlock?"

"What? No! What?"

The Dragon sighed. "Do you feel more prepared to face the Dark Force than before?"

"Oh!" Merlin thought about the night before, about the clang of Arthur's sword against his shield of ice, and how Arthur's quick reactions to even the most random attacks made Merlin consider the proper use of battle-magic in ways he never had before.

"Yes. I do feel more prepared."

"Ah—but you are not ready," the Dragon frowned.

"Why not? Why wouldn't I be ready?"

The Dragon remained silent.

"What kind of Dark Force are you talking about, anyway?" Merlin asked. "Are you talking about the Questing Beast?"

"Mmm," the Dragon said, ever-so-helpfully, "things are yet incomplete. And the Time is approaching faster, young warlock."

"The time of the Dark Force?"

"Yesss." Merlin would swear the Dragon actually hissed. Like a gigantic cat. A gigantic cat that ranted about destiny and coins…And this was the kind of hissing that reminded Merlin just how happy he was this had to be a dream, and that there was no longer a dragon actually locked up underneath the castle.

"You have fallen behind in your mission," the Dragon said. "You have not recovered from your past failures; there is yet penance to be paid."

Merlin really hated when the Dragon stopped making sense. What failures? And penance? What more could he do? He had already risked life and limb sharing his secret—even if Arthur _had_ taken the news miraculously well.

"I did as you said!" he cried. "I revealed myself to him! I told Arthur all about my magic!"

"You did not confess all," the Dragon grinned horribly. "Your soul is still clothed."

"You want me to, um, unclothe. For…" Merlin flinched. "For Arthur."

"Is that what you desire, young warlock?"

"I desire my _picnic dreams,"_ Merlin muttered.

"Mmm," the Dragon said.

 

"Merlin?"

Merlin emerged from his bedroom early the next morning, pulling a jacket across his shoulders (unlike certain royal prats in the kingdom, at least Merlin could dress himself), and wondering if he should ask Gaius about his dream.

On one hand, Gaius would certainly know the meaning of the Dragon's phrase. Gaius always seemed to understand matters that left Merlin lost and indignant and sputtering—matters like Destiny, and coins.

"Merlin?"

On the other hand, Merlin had the oddest suspicion Gaius would listen to his dream, take one squinty look at Merlin, and burst out into laughter that would not stop for a long, long time.

"Merlin!"

Merlin looked up. "Gaius," he said, realizing the man had been standing in front of him since the moment Merlin left his room.

"Merlin, you _must_ remember to keep your wits about you! You cannot afford to be daydreaming like this later today, when the Questing Beast appears."

Merlin grabbed an apple from the pantry, and shrugged. "Arthur says the Beast is probably a rumor. The 'Beast' hasn't destroyed any crops; he's just been spotted lurking in the forest. If it was the Beast, wouldn't it be attacking?"

"If it's not attacking, shouldn't that be all the more reason for worry? You know the Questing Beast is a sign of great change and often turmoil."

That did make perfect sense. But…

"Arthur told me not to worry."

Gaius sighed, steadying himself by holding onto the back of a nearby chair. "Arthur is a good prince, Merlin, but he's also a good friend to you. Perhaps he did not wish you to worry about the Beast."

Merlin frowned.

"I've got to go," Merlin said, and he stormed out.

"Are you off to help Arthur?" Gaius called through the empty doorway.

"Do I do anything else?" Merlin shouted back.

 

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted as entered the prince's chambers. "Arthur! Did I or did I not tell you about my ma—"

"Merlin!" Arthur reprimanded, sitting up in bed.

"What?" Merlin asked. He was still angry.

"Merlin, for God's sake, close the door!"

"Oh," Merlin replied, and moved to shut the door to Arthur's room.

"Merlin, what were you thinking—"

"Arthur! What were _you_ thinking, telling me the Questing Beast was 'probably a rumor?' I'm a _sorcerer."_ Merlin noticed Arthur's flinch, and moved on. "I do magic. I don't care whether you approve, or whether you can bear to pronounce the whole word. You need to let me help! _"_

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "This is what you came here about? Of course you can help."

Merlin stared at Arthur; the prince seemed to be telling the truth. Merlin blinked.

"First, you can help me get my armor on, then you can help make sure our horses are saddled, and then, then if you return to camp before the rest of the men, you can help by discreetly sparking up our campfire with… that thing you do. You know."

"I can help you beat the Questing Beast," Merlin protested as Arthur rolled out of bed and moved behind his dressing-screen.

"I was a fine swordsman years before your arrival in Camelot, Merlin."

"You'll be an even better one with me. I can make every swing of the sword more powerful, or I can strengthen your armor, or…"

He caught Arthur staring at him.

"I can be helpful!"

"Perhaps you can," Arthur said. "But you rushed in here this morning, Merlin, without so much as closing the door before you started going on about your skills! I cannot let you help me in _certain ways_ unless you promise to be far, far more careful about it. You have to _think_ occasionally, assuming you have a brain."

"I do!" Merlin protested, just as he caught sight of Arthur's teasing grin as Arthur emerged from the screen.

"Let's just start with the armor," Arthur said.

 

"Sire…what do you think 'unclothe your soul' would mean?"

"Merlin?"

Merlin tried not to look at Arthur, even as his master's tone pleaded. This was an embarrassing enough question as is…he just could not get the phrase out of his mind.

"Er…I mean, if someone asked you to 'unclothe your soul,' what exactly would they be asking you to _do?"_

"Merlin, you haven't been reading poetry again, have you?"

Merlin went back to arranging Arthur's chain mail. "Never mind," he muttered.

"No. Let's hear what's bothering you; otherwise you'll be distracted all day today." Arthur knew that if Merlin wanted to use his special abilities, abilities which might just be too valuable to ignore, distraction was a risk they could not avoid.

Merlin pursed his lips, indecisive. Arthur found his gaze drawn to his manservant's expression, and spoke without much thought.

"Come on," Arthur taunted, a smile spreading across his face. His eyes drew upwards, from lips to blue eyes that more often than not these days contained dashes of gold. "What was this about…um…"

"Unclothe-ing," Merlin supplied helpfully. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

Arthur really had to stop staring at that lip. "What?"

Merlin did not respond, just looked more and more upset.

"Well, let's have it," Arthur said after a moment. He pressed a finger against the bridge of his nose as Merlin fixed Arthur's belt. "Why were you reading poetry? Were you trying to impress one of the servant girls with a verse or two?"

"No!"

"One of the servant boys?"

"Arthur!" Merlin flushed. _"No._ No, a…a friend advised me to 'unclothe my soul' to, erm, to Gaius. And I don't know what he wants me to do, exactly."

"Hmm," Arthur mused, staring at the empty fireplace. Merlin lit a small spark in the vent, just for memory's sake. Arthur found himself grinning again, before he realized that he'd never actually stopped grinning since Merlin began assisting with his armor.

"Your friend sounds very odd," he said.

"He's impossible, really." Merlin watched Arthur watching the small spark, and Merlin smiled, too. "Sort-of like a certain prince I know."

Arthur shoved Merlin a bit. "Come on," he said. "The knights will be waiting. And Merlin…it sounds like your friend just wants you to tell Gaius the truth."

 

_But what truth beyond magic could the Dragon possibly want me to share with Arthur?_

Merlin allowed the sun to wash over him as he pondered the thought. The summer sun and breeze felt incredibly nice. Some part of his brain was telling him this scene was all wrong—wasn't there something to do with a Questing Beast, and destiny? But there was always something to do with destiny…

Most of Merlin's brain, however, was telling Merlin to relax, so he did. He turned to Arthur, who was lying in the grass beside him, not quite smiling but looking like he might smile at any minute.

 _You know what?_ Merlin thought. It didn't matter what further truth the Dragon wanted Merlin to share. He would figure it out eventually, and why ruin a perfectly good moment?

"You're dreaming, you know," Arthur said, placing a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"But I'm not in a cave," Merlin pleaded. "No dragons here!"

"Yeah," Arthur rolled his eyes, "the Dragon sends his regards. He said you might prefer this dream…and then he started cackling like an old lady."

Merlin crinkled his nose. "He's very strange." He leaned into Arthur a bit, whispering. "I don't often understand him."

"Turn around," Arthur offered. "He said this would make things clear." Merlin rolled over, reluctant to move.

Lying across from him now was a blanket emblazoned with the Pendragon crest, a basket, two goblets and a cask of wine.

"Well, I believe I'm dreaming now..."

Arthur tugged Merlin back to him, and lifted a hand to run it through Merlin's hair. Arthur's other hand began stroking his forearm. Merlin shut his eyes.

"Is this okay?" Arthur asked quietly.

"Why—why are you doing this?" Merlin asked.

"Do you mind?"

"No…"

"Then you tell me why," Arthur said. "It's your dream."

"I don't know," Merlin said, his own hand blindly reaching toward the prince. One hand cupped Arthur's cheek. The movement was deliberate, but at the same time it seemed somehow beyond Merlin's control.

"Hmm," Arthur whispered into Merlin's ear, making Merlin shiver. "Maybe it's a secret."


	3. Chapter 3

When Merlin awoke with Arthur's foot in his face, his first thought was:

 _We have_ got _to come up with a better sleeping arrangement._  
  
Then he blushed furiously.

"Arthur, move your foot," he said, but Arthur was fast asleep. Merlin stared up at the interior roof of their tent, and wondered what would be the best possible way to awaken a sleeping prince.

Then he blushed again.

Oh, this was bad.

"Come on, Arthur!" he pleaded, hoping against hope the sound of his voice would be enough to wake him. "What if the Questing Beast we missed today entered this tent right now, in the middle of the night and with all his poisonous teeth and whatnot? You would be utterly unprepared. And what would happen to you then?"

"You would save me," Arthur's voice came out drowsy, and Merlin felt a surge of affection at the absolute faith his prince—er, _the_ prince—placed in his manservant.

"You really believe that?" He murmured. "Also, seeing as you're awake now, do you think you could remove your foot from my face?"

"No," Arthur said, and he poked Merlin's face with his big toe, just for good measure. But then he pulled his foot away. "And yes, I believe you would save me. Or die trying, more like."

"I'd save you!"

"I know." Arthur's voice held absolute trust. "You said you helped me kill the last Questing Beast—or was that a lie?"

"Of course not! I wouldn't lie to you, Arthur."

Merlin could feel himself blushing. He was beginning to wonder if most of what he said to Arthur on a daily basis sounded like such an open declaration of love. He guessed he hadn't said anything too incriminating, since Arthur had never mentioned it. Unless Arthur had every idea what was going on but was too embarrassed to mention Merlin's crush…

"—except about your _special_ abilities? You lied to me about that, Merlin every day!"

"What? No! Well, I did lie, but I hated doing it. I had to lie so that I could use magic to save your life."

"So you'll lie to me to save my life?"

"If I have to, yeah. I will."

"Well…I'd lie to you to save your life, too." Arthur said. He prodded Merlin with his foot again. "I wouldn't like it, though."

"Me neither," Merlin said.

"So no more lies, now that I know about your abilities. You're not hiding anything else, are you?"

It was such a simple question, the word "No" was poised to roll easy off Merlin's lips—and then it struck him. What the Dragon meant, _had_ to mean, when he told Merlin to "unclothe his soul."

"Merlin?"

Merlin loved Arthur—or at least fancied him, trusted him, cared more for the prince than he probably should—and every second he stayed silent he was telling his prince another lie.

"Merlin!" And just like that, Arthur was shaking Merlin playfully, and Merlin couldn't tear his eyes away.

"What other secrets are you keeping from me?" Arthur laughed incredulously. "What, are you also part dragon?"

"Of course not, sire."

Arthur frowned, suddenly, and let Merlin go. "You're a horrible liar," he said.

Merlin begged to differ, considering the two entire years he survived without Arthur discovering his magic, but he didn't think this was the best time to mention it. The thought of telling Arthur another secret—risking everything again—made Merlin's stomach flip about painfully. And what if he had interpreted the Dragon wrong, what if he was supposed to tell Arthur about something else? That was still a possibility, too.

Arthur was staring at Merlin coldly, but all Merlin could do was hope to fall asleep again. He had to ask the Dragon, or even dream-Arthur, just ask _someone_ if the Dragon actually meant for him to—

"Sire!" A knight entered the tent. "It's the Beast! It's found our camp!"

Arthur stood, and Merlin followed suit.

"Thank you, Sir Leon." He turned to his manservant. "My armor, Merlin?"

"I might be in love with you!" Merlin blurted out, then turned tomato-red.

Arthur was staring back at Merlin incredulously, and some detached part of Merlin's brain noted Leon was…well, Leon was smirking.

"Leon," Arthur said, his eyes still trained on Merlin, "I assume everyone else is awake."

"Yes, sire."

"Make sure they are all prepared for battle."

"Yes, sire."

Leon left the tent.

"Merlin."

"Yes."

Arthur sighed. "Would a 'yes, sire' be so very difficult?"

Merlin began to help the prince into his armor. "Arthur, we're about to go fight a Questing Beast, I just told you I fancy you, and _that's_ what you choose to focus on?"

"Yes. Because you are still a servant and I am still the prince."

"I thought we were past that," Merlin grumbled, eyes focused on the chain mail.

"We can never be past that, for as long as we live."

"Great, so I guess allowing the Questing Beast to kill one of us would be the solution!"

"Merlin," Arthur said, grabbing his manservant's slim wrist. He could feel Merlin's pulse fluttering beneath his fingers. "You are a sorcerer _._ I'm an expert swordsman. We won't die."

"But if we _do,"_ because the horrible way this was going indicated he must have misinterpreted the Dragon's message, and that meant he _hadn't_ done whatever he needed to do in order to save them both from the Questing Beast, "you should know—"

"If this is this the _only_ way to stop your mouth—"Arthur began, before pulling Merlin into a swift, desperate kiss.

When he pulled away, Arthur blinked.

"Fine," Merlin spat out. "Let's go."  


 

Leon had his eyes trained on the fire when Arthur and Merlin exited the tent. Merlin thought that was rather suspicious. But then, the other knights were drawing with sticks in the dirt and whistling awkwardly to themselves.

"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur asked, sounding disturbingly like his father.

"Sire…well…that is to say…" Leon began, and ended.

"False alarm," Galahad said.

"What?" Merlin said.

"He was on watch; he thought he saw the Beast," Galahad jerked his hand towards one of the youngest knights.

"I did see him!" The young knight's voice cracked. "But after Leon went into your tent, the Beast turned and left!"

"Sure he did," Galahad said, rolling his eyes. "We already surveyed the area, and couldn't find much proof. Broken branches, but nothing that couldn't have come from other forest animals. The horses did seem spooked, but that could have just been from all the chaos this one," he jerked his head towards the knight again, "caused."

"Sorry to wake you, sire," Leon said.

"Right. Well. I guess you can all go back to sleep," Arthur decided. "Change the watch. Percival, at least," Arthur gestured towards the young knight, "could clearly use some rest."

There was a general chuckle from the knights. Percival looked a bit put-out.

"I'll put someone else on watch duty," Leon said.

"Very good."

"I think I'll sit out here a while, sire," Merlin said to the ground. "Unless you need me?"

Merlin waited; he could feel Arthur's eyes on him.

"You may wait out here until I request your services. But—Merlin—be careful."

Merlin's eyes inadvertently jerked back to Arthur.

Arthur nodded.

"If the Beast comes along, you let the knights protect you. Don't let the heat of battle make you forget that _you're all thumbs when it comes to swordplay._ Understood?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes, sire."

"Good." Arthur turned around and left.

Merlin's eyes jerked toward Leon, who nodded at him. It was a kind gesture, one that said, "I won't tell everyone about your embarrassing outburst, even though I certainly could." Leon and Merlin did not know each other terribly well, but Leon liked Merlin well enough, and he would not dare embarrass Arthur in such a way. It wasn't the first time Merlin got away with something silly or embarrassing because of his professional ties.

Merlin groaned softly.

"Long night, Merlin?" Galahad said. Merlin just nodded, too tired to do much else.

"You can borrow my bedding if you want to rest; Leon here was just about to sentence me to early-morning watch because I made fun of Percy in front of the prince."

"You know me so well," Leon said affectionately.

"Thanks," Merlin said. He stumbled over to Galahad's padding and closed his eyes the second he hit the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur's boots crushed golden leaves as he moved through the deep forest.

"Any sign of the Beast?" Merlin asked, following Arthur's movements with far more noise and less grace.

"Well, there's a good chance the Beast was somehow alerted to our presence, Merlin. You're not terribly good with silence, are you?"

"But Arthur," Merlin said, smiling for some reason, "there are so many other things I'm good at. Far better things."

There was something nonchalant about Merlin's tone, as if this hunt for a Questing Beast wasn't so very necessary after all.  
Something that made Arthur want to play along.

"Perhaps you could point out these abilities? I seem to have missed them entirely."

"Well, you aren't terribly observant," Merlin allowed. Arthur wanted to protest, but Merlin's hand moved up to scratch his neck,  
and Arthur was distracted by the sight of the long fingers skimming pale skin.

For all Arthur cared, there could have been no Questing Beast at all.

"I'm excellent at magic," Merlin explained.

"Excellent?" Arthur said. "You set your arm on fi—"

Merlin placed a hand over Arthur's mouth.

"I'm also highly skilled in…um. Ways?" Merlin placed his other hand on the back of Arthur's neck, threading his fingers through Arthur's hair.

"Mmph," Arthur said, causing Merlin to pull his hand free of Arthur's face.

"Yes, sire. Excellent point."

Merlin leaned in closer, until his lips met his master's. This was nothing like their first kiss—Merlin moved slowly, adeptly, or at least he did before Arthur opened his mouth in return…

Merlin's hands moved to Arthur's lower back, and Arthur pulled away to look at the boy.

Merlin was smiling like he'd just won an argument. Rather thoroughly.

"This isn't appropriate," Arthur murmured. "When the knights could find us at any minute…"

"But I'm good at it!"

Arthur couldn't find it in himself to disagree. In fact—

And then Arthur woke uncomfortably—for the tenth time since he lain down to sleep.  


 

Merlin, on the other hand, did not dream at all.

When he opened his eyes once more, jostled awake by Galahad at the break of dawn, it was only the presence of Arthur's knights that kept the sorcerer from crying out.

All of his life magic had guided Merlin, sheltered him in exchange for each time it endangered him. The Dragon was confusing, but Merlin now realized, there was perhaps some comfort in the bit about the coins. And now, with no Dragon's riddled solutions, no direction and a Questing Beast still on the loose—

When Merlin awoke without any dreams, without anyone saying his name like it meant something, he felt utterly alone.  
Leon looked down at Merlin.

"The prince asked for you," he said.  
 _  
The prince can dress himself,_ Merlin thought. _The prince said we can never be equals, and I'd really rather not see him right now._

But since Merlin was Arthur's manservant and he had no real choice in the matter, he stood, yawned, and walked over to Arthur's tent.

"Sire?" Merlin simply called, since there was really nowhere to knock on a tent door.

Arthur pulled open the curtains, and watched as Galahad and Leon pretended they weren't staring. Arthur just…Arthur wouldn't think about that. Or certain other things. Arthur's eyes involuntarily turned to Merlin.

"Oh," Merlin said. The prince looked terrible, almost as bad as Merlin felt.

"Yeah." Arthur gestured for Merlin to enter his tent.

"You look terrible," Merlin said, receiving an especially dark glare in return. "Sire," he quickly added. "Really, though. Did you even sleep?"

Arthur clapped a hand over his eyes. "No thanks to some," he muttered. "Any more news of the Questing Beast?"

"No." Merlin rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, suddenly unsure how to act around the prince he just pronounced his love to…and kissed…before that same man told him they would never be anything besides servant and master.

It was all a bit confusing.

And, _of course_ , Arthur was groaning. "What I wouldn't give for a hot bath."

"I'll draw one up for you," Merlin said, making a vague gesture with his arm to indicate where he would conjure said bath.  
 _  
"Merlin,"_ Arthur said. Arthur grabbed his arm but then immediately let go, like Merlin's hand was on fire again or something. Merlin bit his lip.

Arthur coughed.

"Merlin. What did I say about being careful with your magic?"

"You said not to—did you just say magic?" Merlin said, turning to look at Arthur. The prince was rolling his eyes.

"Yes, and could you try to _pretend_ to keep your voice down? It's not as if I just learned the alphabet or anything."

"But you said magic! You said the word! And you didn't stutter, or avoid it, or—"

"Yes, Merlin, I think everyone has the picture right now. Or everyone would, if there were more than just two of us in here who—um. Look. You really must be more careful with your words. "

"You only learned of my magic because I told you about it, Arthur. You never figured it out on your own."

"Yes, well….yes…"

"I can take care of myself."

"I suppose…" Arthur did not like the turn this conversation was taking. In the sense that he was being proven wrong, without kissing. There just had to be some way to distract Merlin…

"Arthur!" Or maybe Merlin would just distract himself.

"What?"

"You prat, you can say _magic_ now! You must have practiced so _hard_ to do that—"

"Merlin! Are you going to help me dress or not?"

Merlin looked at Arthur hopefully, like maybe his puppy-dog expression would make Arthur decide he didn't need to wear chain mail ever again. Arthur shook his head.

"You are just a _terrible_ servant, absolutely terrible. Merlin, have you never heard of a hypothetical question?"

"Yes, but—"

Arthur shoved him gently. "I'll just take that as a 'no,' shall I?"

"I hardly think it's fair—"

"Merlin, find my armor." Merlin began searching the ground as Arthur continued. "It's time for a grammatical lesson; it'll help you understand that nonsense poetry better. Let's begin with the royal 'we'…"  


 

This was the problem with Merlin, Arthur mused as Merlin arranged some chain mail about Arthur's neck. Merlin teased, Arthur grinned. Everything was normal. Perfect.

And if Arthur had never kissed his manservant, and was not now overly conscious of the way his manservant's fingers were unconsciously _playing with Arthur's hair_ , none of this would have been a problem.

Needless to say, it was a problem.

A big one.

Humongous, even.

Before The Kiss, Arthur had very rarely had dreams, or at least he'd rarely been able to remember them. Dreams were for Morgana, and possibly Merlin. But not after last night—Arthur remembered everything.

Arthur remembered Merlin with him in the forest, all alone and breathing in tandem. Merlin with him at some sort of picnic, hands touching as they rolled across the grass. Merlin in Arthur's bedroom, Arthur in Merlin's bedroom. There was also a slightly less pleasant bit with a cackling dragon in there, a dragon rather like the one Arthur had fought last spring, actually, but that was hardly the important part...

The important part was that Merlin had finished adjusting Arthur's armor, and Arthur wasn't sure what to say to him that would possibly inspire more touching. Ideally kissing, but Arthur would even settle for handholding at this point.

"Do you need me for anything else, sire?" Merlin asked.

Anything.

"I'm in love with you, Merlin," Arthur said. The words sounded funny in his mouth, forced and very strange, but they also made an odd sort of sense Arthur couldn't quite figure at the moment.

"Arthur," Merlin said, turning to him. Merlin leaned in, placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder as he stared at the prince. Arthur stared back.

Then Merlin actually _hit_ him.

"That's not funny, Arthur! Not even a little!"

"Merlin! It's not… you can't hit me!"

"I don't care. I'll be outside."

"Merlin!"

Arthur watched helplessly as his manservant stormed out of the tent. And then he wondered if Merlin could have possibly lied to him when he said he loved Arthur, because why else wouldn't he have wanted to hear that Arthur loved him? But Merlin hadn't even been able to look at Arthur after Arthur kissed him last night.

It wasn't like Arthur had ever been instructed on the protocol of courting one's manservant, after all— Arthur snorted a bit at the idea of _courting_ Merlin, anyway. The boy kissed well, in dreams and in life, but it probably wasn't worth humiliation.

A strong breeze blew the door to his tent closed; Merlin had effectively disappeared into the rest of his men.

And Arthur's little crush wasn't worth causing a scene among the knights.  


 

"Arthur," Leon said quietly, stoking a new campfire. Arthur kept expecting Leon to mutter a spell or something, just in order to make the flames leap a little higher. It had been such a long day, and Arthur no longer had any magic solutions to creating large campfires—Merlin hadn't spoken a word to him since they broke camp that morning.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Leon," Arthur watched Merlin through the flames. The sorcerer's hands idly played with the bottom of his neckerchief. Why did Merlin wear those stupid things, anyway? The only purpose they seemed to serve was to bewilder Arthur when he chanced to think of them.

Merlin caught Arthur staring, and dropped his hands. He stared for a moment at Arthur, and then glanced away like he had been stung by some sort of insect.

"Arthur, is everything all right?"

"Fine."

"Of course, sire." Leon stood as if to leave.

Arthur looked up—he had already enraged one member of their party, and two in one day seemed a bit much. What kind of a king was he, if he alienated even those closest to him?

"Leon, wait. Please. Speak freely—what did you want to say?"

Leon looked at Arthur, surprised and grateful. He sat down again. "It's nothing, sire," he said. "It's just…we did not locate the Beast today. Again."

"I'm well aware." Arthur sighed. "I'll ask father to allow us the use of hounds the next time we search or...I'll think of something."

"You mistake my meaning, sire. I am pleased we did not discover the Beast today."

Arthur turned to stare in shock. He had never taken Leon for a coward.

"If we're going to fight the Beast, sire, we'll need every one of us. All our abilities…including Merlin's."

Arthur's eyes leaped back to Merlin before he could stop them; Leon only watched Arthur.

"He's my manservant, Leon. Nothing more. His greatest ability is cleaning my socks, and he only gets that correct half the time."

"Oh, I couldn't dream of Merlin fighting, sire."  
 __  
Oh. "Good."

Arthur tried not to breathe too great a sigh of relief.

"But I think you fight better with him about, Arthur. Sire. Please forgive my impudence." With that, Leon moved over to Galahad, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts and the blazing fire.

It was dark out, and he watched Merlin yawn openly across the camp. No sense in disturbing him now, Arthur decided. Merlin was a bit useless when he was sleepy…To be honest, Merlin was a bit useless all of the time. Not that the fact changed the part where things were a mess, or changed what Arthur needed to do.

Merlin yawned again.

Not tonight then. Tomorrow, though…tomorrow Arthur would make things right.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin could feel the Dragon's laughter along his skin even before he entered the cave. He looked about, nervous and alarmed, but it was only him in Camelot's long dungeon halls.

Intrinsically, there was something _very_ wrong about feeling grateful to be dreaming of the Dragon again. Merlin was about to enter a cave where he would face condescension, confusion, and quite probably ridicule—and he was happy about the fact?

"Thing is, you're better than him," Merlin heard.

He turned around to face Arthur. Arthur (or a dream version of him, anyway) took Merlin's hand, without a caution or a quip. It was so unlike the Arthur in the real world—and Merlin did not want to push him away.

"Ask the Dragon whatever you want," Arthur said.

"You're not coming with me?"

"I probably should," Arthur smiled, overly sweet, "since you need me."

"I do not!"

Arthur ruffled Merlin's hair.

"Hey. Stop that!"

"Stop lying, Merlin!" Arthur's voice was lighthearted in a way that seemed off to Merlin. Then he let his hand fall away from Merlin's hair, and spoke earnestly. "Things are different now. You could tell me the truth."

"Trust me, I've told you _everything._ "

"Have you? Secrets come in threes," Arthur said. "Secrets in threes, alarms in twos, and destiny only once."

"You're not making sense!" Merlin said. "Okay, maybe you're making more sense the Dragon—but that's not saying much!"

Dream-Arthur squeezed his hand. "Come on, tell me the third secret."

Merlin looked at him blankly.

"Oh, you idiot. You don't even know it yet, do you?"

Merlin shrugged, then sighed. "We should go inside. I'm sure the Dragon will be overjoyed that you're here."

"But not like this."

"Like what?"

Arthur let go of Merlin's hand.

"Remember that you're better," Arthur said to the shell of Merlin's ear.

Then Arthur was gone. Lovely.

On to the ridicule then, Merlin supposed. He entered the cave, and the Dragon was waiting.

"Young w—"

"No. Please, just stop."

The Dragon cocked its head.

"No more riddles! I've had about as many riddles I can handle without my head exploding. Please, just tell me what the third secret is."

The Dragon sighed. "Young warlock, Destiny is a puzzle."

Merlin waited for more, but the Dragon was apparently finished.

"Yeah, thanks. I don't even know why I came here."

"You came for answers."

"Yes," Merlin said, surprised. It was weird, the Dragon saying something that actually made sense…It felt wrong… "Can you actually give me answers?"

"One, perhaps." The Dragon grinned. "Think carefully, though—what is it you want to know?"  
 _  
Tell me how to fix things with Arthur_ , Merlin thought, but that was much too embarrassing and, he supposed, only useful in the short run. Here was a chance to finally learn something—his question should probably be a bit more useful. Perhaps not so selfish.  
He sighed.

"I need to know where to find the Questing Beast."

"A noble choice. But know this, young warlock—the future is not yours to face alone. You must be prepared to bare all."

"What? No, I don't think you understa—"

"Go with the prince, alone, to the darkest part of the forest, when the sun is at its height—"

"WHAT?"

"Directions, Merlin. The answer you seek."

"OH! Oh. Yes. Er…Could you start over again?"  


 

As he watched the sunrise a few feet away from the camp, Arthur wondered how to possibly set things right with Merlin.

Somehow he didn't think "Merlin, I've decided it's unacceptable for you to be in love with me if you do not plan to snog me at least seven times a day" would work especially well.

The problem was that he hadn't the faintest idea of what was going through Merlin's head. What could possibly have possessed the sorcerer to tell Arthur he loved him if he hadn't meant it? Maybe Merlin wanted to distract Arthur from the Beast, or something. But Merlin, who kept on insisting they use his magic to stop the creature, had hardly stopped mentioning the conflict. He couldn't be just distracting Arthur…And what incentive would Merlin have to lie? Telling him he loved him would hardly save Arthur's life…

It just didn't make any sense.  


 

Merlin heard the noises before anyone else.

The Dragon's last words to him were incomplete, just "Time to awaken—your prince needs you—" and then Merlin awoke with a set of instructions he _really_ needed to remember, and also a deepening feeling something was about to go absolutely, horribly wrong.

He looked around quickly, noted most of the knights were still asleep (except the knight on watch whose bedding Merlin was borrowing, but that knight was across the campfire and looked about ready to doze off at any second). So Merlin cleared a space in the earth behind Arthur's tent, scribbled the instructions in the dirt with his magic, and then opened Arthur's tent.

Arthur wasn't inside.

Merlin turned around, confused, and that was when he heard.

There was a pounding sound, as though the Beast was approaching—only it couldn't be the Beast, the Dragon had given him instructions on where to find the Beast, hadn't he? Merlin and Arthur were supposed to go to the darkest place in the forest when the sun was at its height and find the hollow tree that was burnt at both ends—none of which was here.

Merlin heard another sound, just like the last.

He looked around but couldn't see Arthur anywhere. He ran over to the knight on watch, who was checking his armor before pursuing the noise.

Merlin grabbed at the knight's hands.

"The prince…" the knight said, clearly worried.

"Just don't leave, okay? I have everything under control."

The knight looked confused. "But—but you're just a manservant. I can't possibly let you go alone."

"You have to let me go alone!" _I can't do my magic with you around,_ Merlin thought, and willed the knight to somehow understand. "Trust me, you have to. Just…which direction did Arthur wander off?"

The knight pointed south. "If you're not back in ten minutes, Merlin, I'm going after you."

Merlin could've kissed the knight.

"Thank you! Thanks. You won't regret this!" he promised, and ran.  


 

At first, Merlin saw Arthur, but no beast.

Then he saw Arthur more clearly.

The prince was moving rocks—what seemed to be really heavy rocks—into a line in the center of the clearing. As he released one, it fell to the earth with a very loud thud. A pounding sound.

Merlin stopped running and slowed down to a walk. Arthur, who must have heard him, never even turned around.  
"Arthur…" Merlin said. "What are you doing?"

"Building a castle." Arthur still didn't turn around.

"What? Arthur, are you—"

"When I was little, whenever I asked about my mother, the king would send me out of the room. He always responded the same way, and there was never anything I could do—so eventually I just stopped asking. But sometimes I couldn't help myself," Arthur released another  
boulder. _Thud._

Merlin watched, without moving.

"When I was five I asked my father again. He sent me away, and my nursemaid discovered me crying. I wouldn't tell her what was wrong, because I knew better than to try and ask him about my mother. I _knew_ not to ask. So the nursemaid handed me a set of blocks and told me to build a castle. A better one than ours."

"Arthur…" Merlin said softly.

"Merlin, I don't know where this Beast is." There was another thud, as Arthur released a rock. "I don't know why it's here, or have even the slightest idea how to find it. I know you have magic, which I have always been told was evil. I haven't forgotten for a second that magic killed  
my mother."

Merlin began walking to Arthur .

"And I know you're not evil, so magic can't always be evil." _Thud._ "Only, I don't know, not really. And we're not like we used to be, and I don't understand that, don't have _time_ to understand that. And I have to find a Beast, only I have no idea _where he is._ "

Arthur stopped, and sat down on the stones. He put a hand over his eyes.

"I was building a better castle."

Merlin stepped forward, closing the space between them. He took Arthur's hand, and Arthur looked at him.

"Stand up," Merlin said gently.

He didn't let go of Arthur, even after he pulled the prince away from his rocks. He turned them both so they could see Arthur's work.

"Áfæstnian," he whispered, and raised an open palm to face the stones, "burgstede burgþelu burggeat áfæstnian."

Before their eyes, the stones rearranged themselves into a small fort. Leaves and twigs flew to complete the structure, shaping an open  
door. Even once it completed, the pair stood in silence for a moment.

"It's hardly a castle," Merlin murmured.

"Is it sturdy?" Arthur asked. Merlin couldn't read his voice…but the prince didn't let go of Merlin's hand, either.

"No idea."

"Well, you made it, so I don't think we'll tempt fate by going inside. Last thing Camelot needs right now would be to lose the two of us. Even if we can't find this damn Beast."

"Arthur…"

"Still. I couldn't do that."

"True," Merlin admitted.

Arthur couldn't help leaning his head against Merlin's shoulder, just a little. He didn't get much sleep, he told himself.

Merlin, knowing they would never speak of this again, put a hand down to stroke Arthur's hair.

"You'll build something much, much better," Merlin said softly. "Arthur. You'll build a kingdom."

"If we can just ever get rid of this Beast."

"Come on," Merlin said. He turned his eyes to the fort once more. "Ábréotan," he said, and the stones quietly flew back to their original places. Arthur let go of Merlin, and they turned to leave. Merlin stopped for a second—he couldn't help himself—and turned back to face the clearing.

Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder, and after a moment Merlin began walking again.

They didn't say a word as they made their way back to the camp.  


 

The knights were all awake and preparing to leave when Arthur and Merlin reached them.

"Settle down everyone," Arthur said. "I apologize for causing everyone to sound the alarm."

The knights reacted with a mixture of shock and confusion. Merlin also noted Arthur wasn't the only one impatient to finally get his hands on  
the Beast. Many of the knights muttered complaints—apparently they had been looking forward to finally fighting something after four days of  
empty searching. Galahad, at least, attempted to return morale.

"We woke you once for a false alarm, you were just returning the favor," Galahad joked.

"Sorry," added the knight who had been on watch.

"It's fine," Arthur said. "Complete your morning preparations. I'll be with you shortly."

Merlin moved to help pack up the bedding he had borrowed, but then Arthur called his name.

"You're coming with me," Arthur said, and began walking toward his tent.  


 

"So that was the second false alarm," Arthur noted when they reach the tent.

Merlin stops. The second alarm…where has he heard that before?

"Two false alarms. I don't like that," Arthur said.

"Neither do I…" Merlin began, and then he remembered: " _Alarms in twos, destiny only once. Secrets in threes."_  
 _  
What was the third secret?_

"I know where the Beast is, Arthur. Or at least where we can find him."

"You do? What? How?"  
 _  
No secrets._ Merlin thought. He didn't know the third secret yet, but he didn't want to risk hiding much of anything from Arthur at this point.

"We should talk about yesterday before I tell you."

Arthur sighed. "Merlin, you know where the Beast is! We should focus on that, not what I said…just, all of it. You should try to forget that."

"But I can't forget," Merlin said. His hand moved up to Arthur's cheek, which Arthur found _completely impertinent,_ and also rather hot. And then Merlin fell silent.

Arthur waited.

"I hit you, yesterday," Merlin finally said. He yanked his hand away as he admitted it.

Arthur stared laughing. Really, really hard. "Merlin! That's the least of our worries."

Merlin looked upset. "Why?"

"Because there's a Questing Beast running about, you idiot. And it's not as if your slap actually hurt…"

Upon seeing Merlin's dejected expression, Arthur tried to school his face into something more serious.

"Not like it hurt physically, I mean," he attempted. "Emotionally, it was very painful. I was deeply wounded. In my emotions. They might be sore for days."

"Shut up, you prat."

"My emotions might never recover."

"Just shut up and I'll tell you where the Beast is!"

Arthur grinned wide, for the first time far too long. "Now we're finally getting somewhere."  



End file.
